


the air that i breathe

by seren_ccd



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, what happens next
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:44:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seren_ccd/pseuds/seren_ccd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-ep for ‘Hide’. This is what happens next for Emma Grayling and Major Alec Palmer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the air that i breathe

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I needed fluffy, what happens next for these two characters. I blame Jessica Raine and Dougray Scott for being wonderful. I’m halfway to wanting to write their entire history. Beta'd by the lovely Fringedweller who keeps me straight in regards to tea.

Hila can’t stay, which makes Emma quite sad in a way she can’t yet define. But the Doctor goes on and on about paradoxes only being so strong and really, let’s not add too many anachronisms to the world; it’s got quite enough as it is.

But before she goes, Emma takes Hila’s hands and for a moment is at a loss for words.

“You really remind me of my mother, you know,” Hila says as she smiles.

“I’m so very glad I got to meet you,” Emma says. “Have… Have you had a good life?”

Hila grins and Emma can see the tiniest bit of Professor Palmer - Alec - in there somewhere. “I’ve had an exceptional life. And besides, it’s not over yet!”

Emma pulls her close and they hug tightly. Then they let go and Hila’s through the door of that peculiar blue box and they’re gone.

She stands on the path staring into space and holding as tight as she can to the feeling of ‘family’ she’d felt in Hila. The feeling intensifies when Alec comes up behind her, warm and broad and so very, very dear.

“Are you well?” he asks, his voice soft and hesitant.

Emma nods not quite trusting herself to speak yet. She turns and his eyes are fixed on her face in such a way, as if seeing her for the first time. She can’t help the smile that forms.

“Successful evening then, professor,” she says a little giddily.

His bark of laughter is one of relief and he steps in close to her. “We make a very good team, don’t we?”

He’s clearly not just referring to ghost-hunting, but she can sense a hint of apprehension in him and to be fair, she’s feeling it too. How on earth do you even go on after being told that you already have? 

Paradoxes have always given her a headache.

So she falls on good old British traditions, instead.

“Tea?”

“God, yes,” he says taking her hand and a jolt of heat and happiness send tingles through her body.

He feels it too, if the look he gives her is any indication.

Once inside the little room with the tea things, he reluctantly lets go of her hand and she sets about boiling the kettle. His gaze on her is familiar and a little mystified.

“You’re wondering what to do,” she says opening the tin of tea.

“As are you,” he tells her. She gives him a tiny grin over her shoulder. He shrugs a little sheepishly. “I don’t have your gift, Emma, I’ve told you. But even I can tell that you’re wondering about all this.”

“I suppose it doesn’t take a psychic to know that,” she says pouring the hot water over the leaves and placing the lid on the teapot. 

He sighs and says absently, “We should really go to bed.”

The teaspoon clatters against the rim of her mug and she looks at him in surprise.

“No!” he says hurriedly. “I didn’t! I only meant…we haven’t had any sleep in days and that we should get some. Sleep! That is.” He winces and Emma has to laugh.

“I knew what you meant,” she says turning back to the tea. “I suppose we should get some sleep. It all still feels so unreal. Like a dream or a fairytale.” She looks out of the window at the path where she’d hugged her great-great-great-great-however-many-great’s granddaughter. “I feel both lucky and, well, sort of on the spot about it all, I suppose.”

He clears his throat in such a way that she turns around again. He’s standing straight but won’t look her in the eyes.

“Oh, dear, you’re about to say something ridiculously noble, aren’t you?” she asks feeling slightly dismayed bit mostly amused.

“Just because some, some _Doctor_ says that we end up together doesn’t mean that we must,” he says, still not looking at her. “I’ve seen too much choice taken away from unwilling people in my life to inflict that upon you.” His eyes dart up to hers. “Especially you.” His eyes dart away again. “I’ll not take away your choices, Emma.”

Her heart, which she’d already thought had reached capacity for love for this man, is now full to bursting.

“Alec,” she breathes and his eyes fly to hers (absently she knows this is the first time she’s called him by his name). “Don’t you know that I made my choice ages ago? You’re not taking anything from me. If anything, you’re giving me _everything_.”

His mouth goes slack for a moment, just a moment and then he’s there, in front of her, his hands framing her face (so gently) and his mouth moving (again, _so_ gently) over hers. The tiniest of noises escapes her and then she’s clutching at his lapels, pulling him close. Her senses are awash with the feel of him, the smell of his damp coat, the press of his glasses on her cheeks and oh, just _him_. All of him. His joy, his disbelief that this is real, his _relief_ that this is real and a hearty dose of pure heat and lust and love that nearly bowls her over.

She has to pull away but she’s smiling and laughing as she does so. 

“You’ll marry me, won’t you?” he asks pressing his forehead to hers.

“Is that a proposal?” she asks, still laughing and smoothing her fingers up to his hair.

“Yes, yes it is,” he says nodding, his glasses slipping down his nose. “Emma Grayling, will you marry me?”

“Yes, oh, yes,” she says. This time, she’s the one to frame his face and press her mouth to his. Their lips part at the same time and she’s never been this close to anyone because it was always too much. It’s still too much, but she trusts him and best of all, she trusts _herself_ with him.

Several minutes later, he lifts his head and looks at her. His mouth is red and swollen and his hair is in all directions and Emma allows herself a moment of smugness knowing that she did that.

“We should, um,” he says dazedly. “Uh, the tea’s going cold.”

Emma twines her arms around his neck and he tightens his grip on her waist. “Hang the tea,” she says. “I think we should do as you first suggested.”

He looks confused for a moment, but the confusion clears away to surprise. “ _Emma_ ,” he says breathlessly.

She smiles and simply says, “Read my mind, professor.”


End file.
